


As the Sun Will Rise

by 80slieberher



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Hey so, Im trying my best here, It Sucks, M/M, OKAY now ill stop talking, So Bear With me, They have to be, and makes me die, anyway, but i guess its difficult when theyre objects and not people, homophobia isnt real bc im gay and i say so, i dont think yall care much anyway, i rlly do try for reddie, i try to give everything a reason tho, im sorry, issa beauty and the beast au, it doesnt follow the storyline of the actual story exactly but bares a lot of similarities, its gay, kinda sucks, like enough to be an au but its not like a COPY of the movie, like for the plot, like. im not watching the movie as i write yanno, some things are ooc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 17:28:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15344847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/80slieberher/pseuds/80slieberher
Summary: the gay stenbrough beauty and the beast au no one asked for. cue the jordin sparks rendition of ‘beauty and the beast’ (rated mature for language)





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> posting it in chapters bc if i did it as a oneshot it would be rlly unnecessarily long and im not done writing it yet but i promised id post something tonight lol. also im gonna b posting more than just the prologue today but this is short bc its the prologue lol but i actually dunno how long chapters will be bc i didnt originally plan for this to be chaptered. so. as of rn we're rolling with the punches

_Once upon a time, in a far away land, a handsome young prince lived in a beautiful, shining castle…_

The three knocks that sounded loudly on the castle’s doors were near deafening, pulling Prince William - or Bill, as he insisted his castle staff call him - from his peaceful slumber. He waited to hear the shuffling of feet as Richard, most likely, attended to the asshole that dared to hammer on his door at that time of night.

He lied awake in his plush bed, silk sheets wrapped comfortably around him, listening to the heavy doors creak open and the quiet chatter below him. What he didn’t expect to hear were the steps approaching the west wing, the slight _thud-thud-thud_ of feet upstairs toward his room, or his own bedroom door creak open. He was faced by Richie, poking his head in.

“Prince Billiam? You awake?” The young man whisper-yelled. Richard’s father had practically raised Bill - especially after what happened to Bill’s parents and younger brother - the two of them growing up side by side, beyond even a first name basis. Bill’s relations with much of the younger staff, in fact, were that way.

The prince sat up in bed. “Whom’st _th-huh-the fuck_ disturbs me at this hour?” He grumbled, rubbing his eyes and adjusting to the low light. Richie made his way further into Bill’s room, his forefinger hooked around a plate carrying a candlestick.

“‘Seems to me she’s an old beggar, insisting to speak to you personally. ‘Seeking refuge from the storm.”

Bill’s nose scrunched up as he listened to the winds howl outside of the castle walls, images of the forest’s trees’ branches quaking, snow settling on their leaves just to be shaken off again by the heavy gusts.

He didn’t very much like strangers in his castle.

“Young Prince William,” A raspy voiced called to him before he’d barely reached the large wooden door. Peering around it, he was faced by a shivering woman, straw-like gray hair peeking out from her dark cloak. She was just barely visible in the night light, but Bill could tell by only the bottom half of her face - sporting at least three warts and sagging with wrinkles - that she was hideous. “I sought you personally to ask if I might stay the night in your castle, you see, the storm scared off my horse and I’m stranded in the middle of the forest.”

It felt to Bill as though the woman was taking forever to speak, the short explanation that would have taken him mere seconds taking her all of three minutes to croak out.

He clicked his jaw, irritated and tired, eyes almost falling shut right there. She didn’t even have the manners to apologize for waking him at the ungodly hour.

“No-,” He began, patience never being the headstrong boy’s cup of tea, but he was cut off. The little patience he did have continued to wear thin.

“In return for shelter from this very bitter cold,” She spoke slowly again, beginning to pull something out from underneath her cloak, and Bill nearly held up his hands in defense until he realized it was a glass case containing a single rose. “This.” She whispered, holding it out to him.

Even less open to the idea now, Bill crossed his arms over his broad chest, clicking his jaw.

“Master, if I might cut in-,” Richie began, but Bill was unwilling to hear it.

“No,” Bill shook his head, backing away from the door and beginning to push it shut. “I wuh-won’t have any ghastly, _hah-hah-haggard,_ stranger woman frolicking around my castle in the nuh-night. Good night.”

Just as the door inched closed, a pale, wrinkled hand came in between it and the latch, surprisingly strong. Even as he continued to push, the door would not budge against her grip.

“Can you be so sure, Prince William?” She nearly begged, “I must warn you not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty-,” She cleared her throat, voice changing to something much softer, smoother. She no longer sounded like the old beggar she originally had. “- Is found within.”

Bill, admittedly a little spooked, but more intensely aggravated by this woman and her tricks, spared once glance to a candle-lit and equally-confused looking Richard behind him. He turned back to the door.

“Trust me, I’m fuh-fuh-fucking sure, lady.”

It was then that a bright light surged from outside the door, the hand erupting into brightness as well. The two boys scrambled back outside, wrenching the heavy oak back open just in time to see what was the old beggar woman transform into a beautiful enchantress.

“Oh _shit_.” Richie’s quiet but panicked voice came from beside Bill, and as the woman with piercing gray eyes looked down on him, Bill began attempting to sputter out his remorse.

“Oh, Enchantress! I- I- Muh-muh-m-my sincerest apologies, I had no idea-,”

“It is too late, William Denbrough,” Her voice was powerful and cold, her gaze never faltering, Bill and Richie left shielding their eyes below her. “For I have seen that there is no love in your heart,” With a flick of her finger, the boys began floating in the air, the same bright light that had transformed her beginning to surround them as well as the rest of the castle. “As punishment, I transform you into a hideous beast, and place a powerful spell on your castle and all who inhabit it, that shall only break if you learn to love someone and receive their love in return by your twenty-first year. If you fail,” She chuckled slightly, “The curse will never be broken, and you will remain a beast for _all eternity_.”

The Enchantress's voice beat loudly in Bill’s eardrums, and he watched with horror as his arms began to sprout fur, and he felt his limbs extend and his back haunch - transforming into a hideous beast, just as she had foretold.

Suddenly, the bright light ceased, and Bill was dropped to the floor again, left squinting at the floating figure still on his doorstep. He could no longer meet her eyes, but watched as she flashed him a sardonic smile.

“Four years, Prince William. Clock’s ticking.”

With that, she vanished, leaving nothing but a mirror and the cursed rose in her place. It glowed forelorny, one of its eight petals already beginning to droop.  

Bill looked around himself frantically, trying to spy Richie’s familiar lanky frame and failing.

“What happened?” A familiar voice asked groggily behind him. Bill eagerly whipped around, hoping to catch the homey sight of Richie’s mess of black hair.

Instead, there was a _moving_ _fucking candlestick._ Bill could’ve fainted.

“Hold shit!” It screamed with Richie’s voice as it gazed upon itself, catching wind of its supposed hands, - wax candles cemented to the stick - wide eyes meeting Bill’s. “HOLY SHIT!” It screamed again.

“R-Ruh-Richie?” Bill felt his eyebrows furrow, but he did not recognize his own voice. It was far too deep and gruff, sounding more like a monster that his younger brother would have feared to be under his bed.

“Bill?” The face on the candlestick matched his friend’s as it came into focus. “Holy shit, dude, you better take a fucking look at yourself.” Richie’s candlestick-body panted.

Bill turned hurriedly back toward the stoop, picking up the mirror anxiously, seeing his own hands as hairy paws in the moonlight.

Gazing into the mirror, he screamed.

 

Ashamed of his monstrous appearance, the Beast concealed himself in his castle, with the magic mirror as his only window to the outside world. He never forgot the only way to break the Enchantress’s spell.

_If he could learn to love another and earn their love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time._

As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope.

For who could ever learn to love a beast?


	2. one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ill probably post chapter 2 as well bc this chapter is a lot of set up and i want yall to like. get a good feel of the story u know

_Four years later…_

In his own opinion, nineteen-year-old Stanley Uris was a normal young man. He’d lived in the same normal, proprietary little town all his life, and this day in particular was no different than all the ones before. He made his usual morning stroll across town to the bookshop, having picked up the wrong mathematics book for Ben _again_. If there was anything off about Stan, it was his tendency to be looking up instead of ahead, always scanning the skies or nearby trees for birds. He knew the other townsfolk had always found it rather peculiar, but he just couldn’t find it in himself to care.

The birds chirped over the horizon and it was music to Stan’s ears as his neighbors opened their doors to greet one another.

“Hello!” “Hello!” “Good morning!”

Greetings rang in Stan’s ears and he pretended briefly that they were the birds as they ruffled their feathers and got ready for the day. It put a satisfied smile on his face as he stuffed the book in his satchel with a nod and spoke politely and passingly to the people he walked by.

“Good morning, Stanley!” The baker called to him, his cart full of the same breads and pastries that it was every morning.

“Good morning, sir!” Stan greeted in return.

“Where are you off to?”

“The book store, I picked up the wrong book yesterday, you see I got distracted while watching the most _beautiful_ goldfinch outside the bookstore window-,” Stanley began explaining, a smile taking up his face at just the thought of the cute, rotund little bird that had perched itself on the branch outside the bookshop window the day before.

“That’s nice,” The baker cut him off, turning to his wife. “Marie! The baguettes! Hurry up!”

Stanley wasn’t deterred, even with the things he knew people in the town speculated about him. They observed that his head was, maybe quite literally, stuck in the clouds - they thought he was strange without question.

Stan personally wondered if there was anything more than that town. It didn’t feel likely, having spent his whole life in the same place, but he knew there had to be.

He turned the corner with ease and entered the bookshop, having the entire town memorized like a map printed on the back of his hand.

“Ah, Stanley!” The book store clerk gave him a wide smile, pulling Stan out of his thoughts.

“Good morning.” He flashed a bright one in return.

“Back so soon?”

Stanley laughed quietly in spite of himself, pulling the arithmetic book from his bag. “Ah, actually, I bought the wrong book yesterday by mistake,” He licked his lips, “Say, any chance you have any new ones about the birds in the area?”

“Not since yesterday.” The clerk laughed, he was an older gentlemen, and Stan watched as his eyes crinkled at the corner with the expression.

“That’s alright,” Stan hummed, not deterred. He hadn’t really expected any anyway, they were so rare. Not everyone shared his passion. “I need one about arithmetic _and_ geometry.”

The man hummed and gave Stanley a curt nod before getting on his ladder and sliding haphazardly across the room, taking out a book and then making his way back to Stan.

“How’s this one, son?”

But Stan’s attention was again taken from his task, a fat robin having nestled just in the windowsill. He watched it with a small grin, cataloging everything he could about it, saving the information to write in his bird book later.

“Stanley?” The man questioned him again, sudden noise scaring the bird from its close proximity to them. Stan watched with wonder as the bird flew away freely before turning his attention back to the merchant.

“That’s fine, uh, how much do I owe you for it?” He fumbled, taking coins from the pouch in his satchel he’d hand-stitched in just for that purpose.

“It’s yours.” The man nodded, his rosy cheeks contrasting his white hairs.

“But sir-,” Stan began.

“I insist.” He nodded surely.

“Thank you so much!” Stan grinned, gratefully taking the book from the man’s hands and hurrying out the door - knowing Ben needed the material as soon as possible if he was going to finish his latest invention in time for the inventors’ fair.

He felt eyes on his as he walked happily back to the home he shared with his best friend, promptly ignoring them as he watched birds gather around a, bath, splashing happily in it before flying off with their newly pristine feathers, drying them in the wind.

 

“You didn’t miss a shot, Henry,” Patrick snickered behind his friend as the pair made their way up the street from the forest. “Not too bad.”

“I can’t help that I’m the greatest fucking hunter in the world,” Henry joked back, but it was clear by the mere look in his eyes that he genuinely thought that highly of himself. “No beast alive stands a chance against me.” He grinned smugly, arrogance wafting off of him.

“And no one else for that matter,” His fairly scrawny hench-man chuckled back to him.

“It’s true, it’s true,” Henry licked his lips, gaze falling on one person in particular, strolling down the street opposite their direction, “And I’ve got my sights set on that one.”

Henry pointed gingerly to the boy walking toward them, eyes trained toward the blue sky as the early winter wind ruffled his golden curls.

“Stanley Uris?” Patrick reeled, sounding surprised. Henry quirked an eyebrow at him, not liking his doubtful tone.

“He’s the one,” Henry said proudly instead, “The lucky boy I’m going to marry.” The entitlement dripped from his voice with every syllable.

“But he’s-,” Patrick began, but Henry cut him off before he could possibly insult Stanley.

“The most beautiful person in town,” Henry finished instead.

“I know, but-,”

“That makes him the best. And don’t I deserve the best?” He grit his teeth, patience clearly wearing thin.

“Well, of course, I mean- You do, but- I mean-,” Patrick stuttered, but Henry was already monologuing.

“Here in town, he’s the only one even remotely as attractive as I am, so I’m making plans to woo and marry Stanley.”

As the pair walked, girls and boys fawned left and right over Henry, gushing about how tall and strong and _absolutely dreamy_ he was.

However, he failed to ever catch Stanley’s eye without making his presence known. So, that’s what he did, quickening his step until he was stood just in front of the other man, leaning casually against the nearest wall.

“Hello, _Stanley_.” He greeted with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“Hello, Henry,” Stan returned with a nonsensical nod, eyes still trained on the sky, searching for birds. Henry grabbed his chin, pulling Stan’s face down to look at him. “May you let go of my face?” Stanley’s eyebrows raised in the most unamused way, manners however intact.

Not complying, Henry shielded his eyes and gazed up at the clear, empty, bright blue sky.

“Say, what the hell are you always looking for up there, anyway? I don’t see anything.”

“Because you’re not looking for anything,” Stan answered, attempting to squirm his jaw out of Henry’s grasp. “I’m looking for birds.”

“It’s really about time you get your head out of the clouds and focus on more important, prettier things - like me!” Henry beamed, finally letting go of Stan’s jaw in favor of looping an arm around his waist and beginning to parade him around the square. “The whole town is talking about it. Hey, whaddya say we have a walk over to the tavern and have a look at my hunting trophies?”

Stan tried his best to duck out of the man’s grip. “Maybe some other time-,”

 

Henry was causing a scene, people that already thought Stan was a little bit crazy beginning to look on, thinking he was even crazier for rejecting _Henry Bower’s_ advances.

“Stanley, you are the most beautiful boy I have ever laid eyes on,” Henry swiftly changed the topic, holding Stan’s hands now instead, swinging him back around in a circle.

“I really have to go help Ben-,”

“Oh, crazy Ben can wait!” Patrick sneered.

“He’s not crazy!” Stanley argued, and he might’ve put his hands on his hips, had they been free.

Henry snickered as well. “You know who would be crazy?”

“Who?” Patrick played along, Stan’s eyebrows raised in anxiety.

“Stanley, if he said he wouldn’t marry me!” Henry laughed loudly, everyone in the square laughing along with him. “Thank you all for coming to my wedding, but first, allow me to propose!” He called, charming his audience once again.

Stanley couldn’t see it. He listened confusedly as Henry chuckled in his ear.

“I could make all of your dreams come true, Stanley.”

“And what would you know about my dreams?” The young man quirked up an eyebrow.

“Plenty. Picture this: A rustic hunting lodge, my latest kill roasting on the fire, and my little husband, massaging my feet while the little ones play with the dogs. We’ll adopt six or seven.” He whispered into Stanley’s ear. Stan had to resist the urge to wipe at it profusely with his hand.

“Dogs?” Stanley questioned tactfully, spying his cottage nearby, beginning to play Henry’s game of swinging them around the square. If he got close enough, he was hoping to have the strength to deny Henry and then proceed to rip himself away from his hands, tossing himself into his home. It seemed like a solid enough plan, if only he could get close enough…

“No, Stanley! Strapping young boys, like me!”

Stan watched his cottage from the corner of his eye. They were almost there…

“Oh, Henry, that’s sweet, I really don’t know what to say!” He entertained.

“Say you’ll marry me!”

“I’m very sorry, Henry, but I just don’t deserve you!” Stan excused, with that, tugging his hands away from Henry’s in his moment of weakness and practically lunging toward his door, falling through it where he found Ben tinkering away on a machine. Stanley quickly slammed the door closed and approached his friend.

“Here,” He said, pulling the book from his satchel and handing it to his friend, “You wouldn’t believe what I just went through to get it.”

“What?” Ben asked, always so considerate, removing his goggles and turning to Stan as he plopped into a chair.

“You didn’t hear that mess outside?” Stan groaned, rubbing his hands over his face, kicking his feet up and craning his neck to meet Ben’s eyes. “Henry just… _Proposed_ to me? I mean, I’m flattered, but I barely know the guy. Not that I’d be interested even if I did know him, he’s a meathead. In more ways than one. _Mister Stanley Bowers:_ His little husband. Can you imagine?” He laughed bitterly. “Ugh,” Stanley groaned again loudly. “Now everyone _definitely_ thinks I’m a loon.”

“Hey,” Ben was behind him suddenly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “At least _you_ haven’t _always_ been a loon.” He laughed, and Stan did the same.

“Not for long, though,” Stan commented, picking at lint on his pants as he shrugged his coat off finally, “Once you win this fair, they’ll see you’re not crazy just like I do.”

Ben gave a smile, bashful smile. “You really think I’ll win?”

Stan gave a sure nod.

“Well, I actually only have one little piece left to do…” Stan let Ben’s voice fade as his eyes trained on a bird, a bluejay, outside his window, and he hurriedly took out his bird book to make note of all of the ones he’d saw that day.

 

Hours and much tinkering later, Stan was packing three days worth of food into a basket and then packing it carefully into a large bag for Ben, containing clothing and other items he’d need for his trip through the forest to the fair. The sun was setting just behind the forest trees, but Ben was confident that if he rode fast enough, he would make it out of the forest before it was too late and forced him to stop to rest for the night.

“Now,” Stan insisted warily, “If you’re not back in three days, I’m sending a search party.”

“A search party implies more than just you going into the forest and calling my name,” Ben chuckled, and Stan rolled his eyes at his friend’s attempt to make light of the situation.

They hugged, and then Ben was mounting his horse, and Stan’s last “Be careful!” was fading as he rode into the forest.


	3. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow three in one day who is she? but also all of these together are only like 7k words so. basically a normal sized chapter for me

Ben rode confidently on the trail for a couple of hours, but he felt he must have taken the wrong one, as he was much deeper in the forest than he’d intended to be, and it was much too dark and too late to turn around and try to figure out his way back. Plus, he’d come this far, and he was sure the forest couldn’t extend too much farther, so he figured there was no harm in continuing until he came out the other side.

Until hungry growls of wolves began surrounding him.

“Shit, shit,” He breathed, “Philippe, girl, can’t you go any faster?” He mumbled to his horse as she cantered, apparently just as spooked by the noises of ravenous wolves as he was. His heart only thudded faster in his chest, thoughts of stopping for the night fading fast until an open gate appeared in a clearing.

Ben had never felt so relieved.

He steered himself and Philippe into it, the horse still clearly anxious, and he petted her mane in effort to calm her down.

“It’s okay, girl,” He looked toward the castle he’d galloped into the yard of. It was big, and he didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed it riding through the forest before - extremely hard to miss. “I’ll just… Go see if anyone’s home.”

Ben felt his gut churn, but it was this or ride restlessly away from packs of angry wolves and get even more lost in the forest. Ben would take some social anxiety over that any day.

He jogged to the front step, quietly approaching the door. As he knocked, he looked back over his shoulder, the sounds and growling of wolves growing closer. There was a loud _Neigh!_ And a shackling of items to the ground, Ben turning around just in time to watch his horse shake off his belongings and ditch him, too spooked to stick it out.

Ben knew he was screwed now.

“Fuck,” He swore, letting his knuckles rap on the door finally. It creaked open, and, with a curiously raised eyebrow, he pushed in. “Hello? Is anyone home?” He called. “I need some help!”

 

Not far, on a nearby table, a candlestick opened his large, round eyes, turning to the clock next to him, eyes trained on the clueless man that had walked into the castle.

“”Must’ve gotten lost in the woods.” Richie whispered.

The clock popped open big brown eyes and scowled at him.

“Don’t say a fucking word,” Eddie answered him, voice even more hushed, “Maybe he’ll go away.”

“Is someone there?” The man turned around frantically, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice.

“Not a word, Richie,” Eddie ground out, “Not one.”

“I don’t mean to intrude,” The bumbling man continued, “But I’ve lost my horse and I need a place to stay for the night.”

Richie gave his friend his biggest puppy dog eyes. “Have a heart, Eddie, look at this poor fool.”

Eddie smacked his hand over Richie’s mouth.

Richie promptly bit it, quickly quipping, “I love you,” as Eddie withdrew his hand with a childlike screech of pain.

“Who said that?” The man asked, startled, picking up Richie for light.

“Me!” He laughed, making the man yelp and drop him.

“Hey, yeah!” Richie jumped as the man did - Richie in enthusiasm, the man in fear. “You can stay here!” He was practically buzzing with the excitement of seeing a new face - Eddie would swear his flames were flickering.

“Wha-,” The man began, eyebrows knitting, watching Richie move and taking his arm in between his fingers. “How…?” He grabbed for Eddie, spinning the hands on his face. Eddie slapped at his fingers, and the man willingly let him go.

“Come, come,” Richie motioned him over, “You must be fucking freezing from being out there at night, and in the winter? Are you crazy, actually? I can see my flames going out now,” Richie mused, hopping toward the fireplace, the man following him.

“Oh, so you invite a guest in, and then you mouth off to him?” Eddie nagged behind him, Richie leaning down and stroking his clock face with the edge of his candlestick.

“Oh, Eds, you know if you came out in the snow with me, my flames burn so bright for you that they would never go out! Oh, we should call Beverly, she’ll get you a hot drink,” Richie turned back to the man, giving him a charming smile before cupping his candles around his mouth. “Beverly!”

 

Ben was absolutely lost in amazement, watching inanimate objects move and talk and have conversations, and apparently names as well. It only took a moment before a foot-stool came scampering round the corner, barking, carrying a steaming teapot and a few little teacups.

Ben didn’t know how he hadn’t passed out.

“Wow…” He marvelled as it ran laps around him before settling on tackling the tiny, walking clock, licking his face.

“Have a seat, mister,” The teapot - Beverly? - ordered him.

“Uh, okay,” Ben nodded, sitting in the nearest chair.

“No!” The clock regained himself, sprinting to where he was, looking frantically at his friends. “That’s- That’s Bill’s chair, guys, if he finds out he’s here-!” He fretted, and was promptly ignored, the teapot jumping up into Ben’s lap.

“Would you calm down, Eddie?” She dismissed him, turning to Ben. “What’s your name?” She inquired, her voice smooth as silk. “I’m Beverly.”

“I- I’m Ben,” He looked around at all of them.

“Richard, but everyone calls me Richie for short, or Trashmouth, or-,” He paused to wink at his clock friend, “You, my love, anytime.”

The clock crossed his little arms and huffed. “Edward.”

“My little Eddie Spaghetti for short!”

“That’s longer!” The clock - Eddie, Ben supposed - protested.

“This,” Beverly (It was odd to acknowledge objects by name, but they, at least, seemed to have the hang of it) motioned to the foot-stool. “Is Silver, our young Master Bill’s-,”

Just then, the door slammed open, a gust of wind extinguishing the flames of the candlestick- Richie, as well as the fireplace.

“There’s a struh-stranger here.” A gruff voice growled angrily. Ben looked around at the objects, who all seemed to be holding their breath, the teapot having jumped down off his lap.

“Billy, let me explain,” Richie re-lit, hopping forward, “He was lost in the woods and he was cold and needed help-,” Another loud growl cut him off. “Hey! Don’t interrupt me!” He protested, but was again anyway.

“Bill, Bill, I told them, I told them it was a bad idea to let a stranger in, I tried to stop them-,” Another growl, and Ben, for sake of curiosity, peered around the side of the chair to catch a glimpse of what must have been an eight foot tall bear, or something - an animal he couldn’t describe as anything other than a beast. Fangs stuck out from a lower jaw over what Ben could only assume to be lips, hairy face framed by dark black horns and pointed ears. In honesty, this would have been what Ben picture the Devil to look like, and knew the only reason he wasn’t unconscious now was the adrenaline and fear for his life.

“Who are you?!” The Beast bellowed, snarling, hair glinting shades of red and brown in the moonlight. “Whuh-what are you doing here?!”

“I- I- I was lost in the woods, and-,” Ben tried to explain, scrambling up out of the chair, his eyes trained in fear on the creature approaching him.

“You,” The Beast huffed, Ben feeling his back hit a cold wall. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_. “Are _nuh-nuh-not_ welcome here!”

“I’m sorry!” He offered, eyes still never leaving the terrifying thing cornering him.

“What you are stuh-huh-haring at?!’ It bellowed again, even more enraged.

“Nuh-nothing!” Ben covered his eyes, cowering under the Beast, trying to get out from under him and back toward the door. _Shit, shit, shit!_

“ _So,_ you’ve cuh-cuh-come to stare at the buh-buh-Beast, huh?” It taunted him, and Ben tugged helplessly on the heavy oak door, pleading it to open in the back of his mind.

“I meant no harm!” He insisted, strength failing him in favor of fear, “I just needed a place to stay-,”

“I’ll guh-guh-give you a place to stuh-hay!” The Beast roared, effortlessly picking up Ben, leaving him to struggle helplessly in the air as he carried him with only one hand.

He was tossed into a cold room with a hard floor just before everything went black.

 

There was nothing Stanley loved more to do than relax in the plush green grass of his and Ben’s backyard, bird-book in lap and pencil in hand, satchel still thrown precariously over his shoulder. It was a safety, and he tried to keep it on him at all times, except maybe while he slept.

He was admiring a dove that had landed peculiarly close to him, thinking out loud.

“Stanley Bowers,” He scoffed under his breath so not to disturb the bird, “They all think I’m just dying to be Stanley Bowers, they all think I’m just dying to be his little husband and stay stuffed up in this little town,” He frowned, looking toward the dove. “I wish I could fly away like you. Be free, and all that. That would be nice.”

He threaded his fingers through the grass in the small clearly as his pencil laid still in the crease of his book, the night breeze blowing through his curls. The grass felt soft in between his pale fingers, and he was busy enjoying the serenity of the moment up until a gallivanting through the trees startled him and the birds surrounding. He frowned, but upon squinting, realized it was Ben’s horse coming galloping out of the forest.

“Philippe?” He questioned softly, the animal clearly anxious as it approached him. He stood quickly and held out his hand, gently smoothing down her mane. “What happened? Where’s Ben?” His heart was beating hard in his throat. This meant that something was wrong - very, very wrong. “Fuck, fuck,” He swore, beginning to pace. “We have to find him.” Stan decided with a nod. The horse looked reluctant. “We have to find him.” Stan repeated, trying to keep his voice from shaking. Ben was a strong guy, and smart in more ways than one, Stan trusted him to take care of himself - but what if he was hurt? What if he was dead? Stan’s head spun with possibilities as he quickly gathered his things, shoving them into his satchel and pulling his coat tighter around him before he mounted the horse.

He noted none of Ben’s belongings were left in the saddle, and it made his stomach churn.

Stanley, for lack of sense of direction as well as lack of knowledge of the forest, let Philippe hesitantly lead him, gently digging his heel into her whenever she slowed from her gallop. He held on tight; he didn’t ride horses often, and he’d certainly never ridden one while it ran. He wondered briefly if this rush of wind through his hair and the exhilarated feeling was what flying felt like, but it was short lived as he spotted a splash of red on the ground among browns and greens of the forest.

He made Philippe stop and then go back to the object, examining it not for long before he recognized it as the scarf Ben’s mother had knitted him when they were children.

“We have to be close,” He muttered with a nod, more to make himself feel better than anyone else - considering the only other one there to listen was Philippe. “It’s okay, girl, just keep going.” He petted her ears gently before bracing himself and letting her begin to run again.

Maybe in part due to the trail of Ben’s belongings, Stanley found himself approaching a clearing just as the sky began to darken increasingly. He estimated it must be nine or so by then, his stomach growling, stars twinkling in the sky above him. Philippe seemed on edge, but slowed to a stop, entering gates of the castle, and Stanley dismounted.

“Stay here, girl, I’ll be back for you, alright?” He promised before looking forward at the steps a couple ten yards away, leading to the large oak doors of the beautiful castle. Stan wondered if this place had always been here, he’d never noticed it before, but again, he didn’t travel through the forest often.

Not far from him, Stanley spotted an ever bigger pile of Ben’s things, and knew he must be inside.

 

“Couldn’t keep quiet, could we?” Eddie questioned bitterly. “Just _had_ to invite him into stay, didn’t we? Serve him tea, let him sit in Bill’s chair! Why doesn’t he just piss on Bill’s throne while he’s at it!”

Richie snickered, rubbing his nose with his right candle. It was better shaped for that. “You’re just upset he yelled at you.”

Was Bill’s outburst way more than Richie had been expecting? Yes. Was he a _little_ upset at Bill for that? Definitely, but he knew stewing on it the way Eddie was doing was not going to solve anything.

“Calm down, my dear,” He cooed, holding his flame underneath Eddie’s clock face just to see it fog up in embarrassment of being flirted with, “As long as no one _else_ comes, we should be-,”

“Hello?” A smooth voice called below them, Eddie and Richie simultaneously freezing up. “Ben? Are you here? Ben?”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed as he watched Richie’s face pull up into a shit-eating grin. “No,” He shook his head and crossed his arms over his metronome. “We are not-,”

“ _Look_ at him, Eds!” Richie exclaimed, pulling Eddie over to glance down on the golden-haired boy wandering around the floor below them. “And _try_ to tell me that’s not Bill’s fucking type if you’ve ever seen it.”

“I- Well,” Eddie pursed his lips, “Okay, fine, but that still doesn’t mean-,”

“This is the one we’ve been waiting for!” Richie broke out into a hopping happy-dance, his metal bottom clanking around dangerously loud. “He’s gonna break the speh-hell, he’s gonna break the speh-hell!” He singsonged, pumping his candles in the air, and Eddie couldn’t help but smile at the dork, and maybe a little bit at the hope it instilled in him.

“Hello? Is someone here?” The boy questioned again, beginning to near the staircase leading to the cellar. “I’m looking for my friend!”

 

Stan began down the staircase, the entire thing horribly unlit, losing hope that Ben was really there until he heard a faint calling of his name, and he would know that voice anywhere.

“Ben!” He called back, all hope surging back to him immediately, beginning to run down the stairs so fast he almost tripped over his own feet. “Ben! Keep making noise, I’m gonna find you!” He promised, overjoyed over the mere fact that Ben was alive.

The panicked run lasted long, the only light leading Stanley through a freezing, damp cellar being moonlight, the only motivation being Ben’s voice and the prospect of getting them both the fuck out of there.

He eventually reached his friend, more than relieved to find him in a full piece, only bleeding from a few slight scratches but overall fine - just freezing. Stanley draped his coat around his shivering friend.

“Ben, Ben, it’s okay, I got you,” He hugged his friend with all he had - which was a lot, because Stan was never one for close comfort.

“S-S-Stan,” Ben chattered out, shivering still. “You need t-to leave, right now.”

“Why? What, no, I can’t leave without you. We need to get you home before you die of- of being cold,” Stan stammered, beginning to shake himself. Why hadn’t he thought to bring two coats?

“No t-t-time to explain, you n-n-need to g-go!” Ben pushed Stanley away from him, and Stan stood, startled, backing away into a plush chest, jumping. He turned around slowly, squinting just so to see long auburn hair and one ray of light glinting over a pair of bright blue eyes.

“What are you doing here?” The gruff voice questioned him, Stan’s heart hammering up into his chest again just when he thought it might calm.

“Run, Stanley!” Ben demanded, but it was no use. Stan’s feet felt stuck to the floor, he couldn’t move had he wanted to.

“Who’s there?” Stanley asked, more than alarmed, “Who are you?”

“The m-master of this castle,” The same gravelly voice answered him, speaking slowly.

“I- I’ve come for my friend, please let him out,” Stan pleaded, feeling tears well up hot in his eyes. “Can you see he’s going to get sick? And he might be hurt-,”

“Then he shouldn’t have tr-treh-hespassed here.” The cold frown in the voice was evident.

Stan was getting increasingly frustrated as well as overwhelmed, but felt a surprising lack of fear. The only feeling he could summon was pure desperation.

“ _Please_ ,” He stomped his foot, as if throwing a temper tantrum were going to help his case. “I’ll do _anything_!”

“There’s nuh-nothing you can do.” Stan could hear the shrug in the master’s voice, and it made him increasingly upset, “Heh-he trespassed, he’s my p-prisoner.”

“Well,” Stan sniffled, “There- There had to be some way I can…” Stan closed his eyes a moment, allowing himself to think. “What if I take his place?” He blurted, being the first solution to come to mind.

“St-St-Stan, you can’t-,”

“You-,” The master sounded bewildered, “You wuh-wuh-would take his place?”

“Stan, no! You don’t know what you’re getting into-!”

“If I did,” Stan swallowed hard, ignoring the protests from Ben, “Would you let him go?”

“Yes,” The master agreed, voice once again monotone, “But… You have pruh-promise to st-stay here - forever.”

Stan, confused, overwhelmed, but not stupid, realized in that moment that he’d not yet seen the captor’s face. He pondered his next move quietly for a moment, the minute of silence exposing just how thick the air between the three of them was, but all Stan could hope was that Ben was warming up with in the presence of more people.

“Step into the light,” Stan requested gently, and he swore he heard a sigh from the master before he moved so that he was fully engulfed in moonlight streaming in from between prison bars above them. Stan’s eyes met a large chest, and he looked up and up and up until he was met with a furry face, a toothy scowl, and those piercing blue eyes. He blinked rapidly, making sure the fangs that stuck straight out of the creature’s mouth weren’t a trick of his fatigue, light glinting off of them. Horns adorned it’s head, and the thing looked like something out of scary stories told by the other village boys. Caught up in the surprise, Stan gasped, stumbling back against the wall for only a second before taking another deep breath and reminding himself to stay calm. He thought of the serene dove from a few hours before, how unafraid she was to get near him - a hideous giant to her.

Stanley quickly regained his composure, stepping into the light with the Beast calmly.

“You have my word.” He agreed.


End file.
